The car ride was completely silent. Buffy had no idea what to say to this stranger, while William didn’t know how to talk to the girl who didn’t even remember who he was.
“This is my house!” Buffy cried out in happy surprise when they pulled up in front of 1630 Revello Drive.
“Uh, yes,” William said. “When your mother…I moved in here, was appointed guardianship of you.”
“How’d the Council managed that?” Buffy asked as she climbed out of William’s black Desoto and headed up the front walk.
“Well, they have certain powers of political persuasion,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t too difficult.” It was so strange to explain these things to her, things she was present for. Yes, they needed to get to the bottom of her memory loss immediately.
Buffy impatiently waited for him to unlock the door and darted in ahead of him, grateful to be entering what she’d always considered a safe, comforting environment.
And everything was mostly the same. The furniture, the pictures on the walls, the only really obvious difference was the huge TV instead of the tiny one they’d always owned. There were other masculine touches around too, piles of books, a guitar. But for the most part, it was her home, and Buffy was relieved.
She felt William watching her, and suddenly felt awkward. She lived with this man? Who she hardly knew? Who was Spike, but not? Every time she tried to make sense of the crazy universe she’d landed in, it just deepened the pain right behind her eyes. Giles would be proud of her calmness, though. She’d have to tell him how well she handled it all when she got back. Because, she would get back.
“I’m hungry,” She announced to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Right! Yes,” William said, realizing he’d been staring at her for far too long. “I could cook, or we could order Chinese?”
“I’m always down for some moo-shu,” Buffy shrugged. “And we might as well start researching a bit, if you have any books here that would help?”
“Buffy Summers volunteering to research on her off time?” He teased. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“Desperate times and all that,” she giggled, surprised at how the mood had lightened.
“And you’ll patrol after dinner? Or, if you’re still feeling ill, you did faint--”
“No, yeah, I should probably. Since the Buffy from here won’t be here to do it.”
“So you really think that’s the explanation,” he ventured cautiously as he led her into the kitchen.
“I KNOW that’s what happened, Spi---William,” she said. “I still remember my real life. I’m not crazy, and I’m not hallucinating. Well, I may be hallucinating, but I’d be hallucinating YOU, not…the other stuff. The other stuff is real.”
“Alright,” he nodded, choosing not to argue. “Well, you call for the food, and I’ll gather up some books.”
He pointed to where their standard order was written on the menu, and Buffy picked up the phone, aware and slightly afraid of the feeling of normalcy at this domestic scene. If she was a different Buffy than the Buffy that was here, why was this all sort of familiar?
Thinking about it was really getting her no where. Her brain just didn’t hold the answers. Books. Books held the answers, that seemed to be Giles’s motto, and it would hopefully serve her well in this situation.
She placed their order and yelled to William---it was so weird to call him that, even in her head---that she was going to go change. She ran up the stairs and towards what she hoped was still her room.
It was, but when she entered, she stopped short and gasped. She clearly lived here, but it was nothing like how she decorated at home. Filled with dark colors and art prints, it was far more sophisticated than her little girl room. Her weapons and holy relics were casually strewn about, as opposed to hidden like they needed to be back home, and Mr. Gordo was nowhere to be seen. Something caught her eye, and she turned to the dark wood vanity, with pictures lining the mirror. She gasped again.
Pictures of her with Dru, her with Angel, all three of them smiling and laughing, pictures of her with a boy she vaguely recognized, giving him kisses. Pictures of her and her mom that she never remembered taking.
Buffy staggered back, the weight of her situation finally hitting her with full force. If this was a hallucination, it was a little too detailed. And if it wasn’t, if she was really herself, but in this alternate universe…how was she going to get back? And who was she when she was here?
She felt the familiar sensation of oncoming tears, a feeling she’s gotten used to since Angel became Angelus. She didn’t want to cry, couldn’t cry, not in this strange house with this strange man in this strange life. But all of a sudden, she felt well and truly alone, and a sob burst forth from her fatigued body.
She went over to the bed and curled up in a ball, allowing the grief and fear and guilt to wrap her up in their grasp, allowing the tears to fall. It was slightly comforting, really, to feel this same misery, regardless of the circumstances.
William paid for the food and set it next to the books he’d gathered that may help shed some light on the current mystery. “Buffy, food’s here!” he called, and frowned when he received no answer. He climbed up the stairs and headed to Buffy’s room, pausing right before he was about to knock when he heard the sounds of muffled sobs.
His brain told him to turn back, to leave her be, to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. But he couldn’t just leave her there, his Slayer, his Buffy, crying, suffocating under what he assumed was the weight of serious confusion. He opened the door slowly and saw her curled up on her bed, her face covered by her hands and hair.
William walked quickly to the bed before he could change his mind and laid down next to her, wrapping her small body up in his arms. She stiffened at first at the unexpected contact, then relaxed into his warm and soothing embrace.
“Shh, it’s okay, pet,” he murmured into her hair. “We’ll figure it out, yeah? It’ll be okay.”
Buffy sighed, and allowed the comfort of his words and his touch to lull her into oblivion. His arms were firm and protective around her, and it was strange, but their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, like pieces of a puzzle. Or like they’d lain like this before.
William heard her breathing slow and felt her body settle down in his arms, and realized she had fallen asleep. He carefully pulled away and headed back downstairs, quickly putting the food in the fridge to keep until she woke up.
That was a stupid thing to do, he knew. Even if Buffy didn’t remember who he was, especially if Buffy didn’t remember who he was, he needed to keep his distance. Keep himself in line. She was his Slayer and his ward, nothing more.
He poured himself a whisky and headed into the living room to start researching what could possibly have brought on this situation.
“Hi,” Buffy tentatively said when she came downstairs about an hour later, dressed in sweats. William was spread out at the kitchen table, at least four or five books and a laptop organized around him.
“Did you get some rest?” He asked.
“I did, it was definitely needed,” she said. “Thanks for…being nice.”
“Of course,” William said. “Would you like something to eat?”
“God, yes,” she said. “I’m still starving.”
He jumped up quickly and went to warm up her dinner.
“I can do it,” Buffy said. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“It’s no problem,” he insisted, and busied himself in the kitchen.
Buffy watched him carefully. The longer she was in this…whatever it was, the more certain feelings about it came back to her. She did feel as if she knew this person, despite having no actual knowledge about him.
She decided to rectify that.
“So, tell me about you,” she said, settling into one of the barstools.
He glanced at her. “Tell you what?”
“I don’t know, anything,” she said. “I mean, you’re my Watcher? And we live together. Clearly we’re pretty close, and I have this…feeling towards you, that I know you, but I don’t even know anything about you. And I don’t like that.”
“What do you mean, a feeling?” He asked, confused.
“It’s so weird. Like, I do know you, but I don’t, really, you seem comfortable, and familiar. And I saw all these pictures in my room, and I don’t remember taking any of them, but I sort of remember…how I felt,” she tried to explain. “I’m not making sense.”
“No, you are a bit,” William said. “Perhaps whatever is causing this memory loss, or mutation, rather, is starting to fade.
“No!” Buffy said firmly. “That’s not it, because I still know this place isn’t RIGHT. Home is right.”
William shook his head and placed the plate of food in front of her. “Buffy, I think if we’re going to get to the bottom of this situation, you need to open your mind to all the possibilities, yeah? Not just what you think might be true, or want to be true.”
“You know what,” she said around a mouthful of food. She swallowed quickly and continued, “Let’s not talk about this anymore. That nice cry-fest and nap managed to cure my headache, and I can already feel it threatening to come back if we keep on going.”
William nodded, “Of course, we can take a break. Are you feeling up to patrolling or should we cancel on account of ill health?”
“God, you sound just like Giles,” Buffy said. “Can’t you just say, ‘do you feel like crap’?”
“Well do you?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I want to kick some vamp butt. That’s got to be the same in every dimension.”
It was, in a way.
For the first hour or so, nothing seemed different. See a vamp, kick a vamp, stake a vamp. It was easy, it was simple, it felt familiar. William made obnoxious comments about strategy and form just like Giles would have, and Buffy felt the tension of the day start to seep away.
But when they hit Restfield Cemetery, three vampires came out of the dark.
“Oh fun, a party,” she said brightly. “You know, I don’t remember getting my invitation. Not polite, boys.”
“Slayer,” one of them growled.
“Yes, that’s right! A gold star for you,” she quipped, before leaping into action.
She had the upper hand for a while, instantly knocking one vamp to the ground with a swift kick to his knees and staking him as he lay prone, then turning to focus on fending off the other two. But one of them got a lucky shot to her ribs, followed up but a brutal kick to her face, and she staggered back and fell on the ground, disoriented.
Just then, William sprang into action. Buffy regained focus quickly and staked the vampire nearest to her, then watched in awe as William fought the final attacker.
He moved with the grace and calm of a trained fighter, almost cat like in his smooth movements. More like a panther, really, or a jaguar, as he delivered brutal, punishing attacks to the vampire who had knocked her down. Quick as lightning, he pulled a stake from his pocket and staked the monster before it knew what had happened.
“Wow,” Buffy said in shock.
He turned to look at her, wiping dust off of his jacket. “What?” he asked, breathing hard.
“You’re really, really good,” she complimented him. “I mean, really. Where’d you learn to do that?”
He shrugged modestly. “I was originally training to be an operative for the Council, certainly comes in useful living on the Hellmouth.”
“Wow, very cool,” Buffy smiled appreciatively. “Giles…” A sharp pain hit her in her gut when she realized, for just a moment, she’d forgotten her situation. “Giles was not the greatest fighter. Could have broken a hip or something.”
William noticed her change in mood and asked if she was ready to return home.
“Let’s make one more sweep, then yeah, I could go for some ice cream. Please tell me we stock ice cream?”
“Chocolate chip cookie dough,” William smiled.
“That is some good ice cream.”
“Your favorite, right?” He questioned.
“Yeah,” Buffy said sadly. “My favorite.” She caught the concerned and distressed look in William’s eyes, and regretted putting it there.
They returned back to the house in silence, and Buffy tried to act normal, just for the rest of the night, just to keep that look from appearing in William’s eyes again. She didn’t understand why it hurt her so much to hurt him.
She took a shower, she brushed her teeth, she’d gone through her whole nighttime routine, While it all felt familiar, it also all felt wrong, and it was too exhausting to play pretend.
When she finally collapsed in her unfamiliar room, she cried herself to sleep as she had every night since Angel.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Wow, the response to this fic has been amazing! I'm glad everyone's intrigued, and I'm doubly glad you all like it enough to review! I wasn't going to post this for a few days, but you all convinced me. Fic title from a song by the Weepies (and I'm glad some of you gave the song a shot, it's so amazing), chapter title from Bloc Party.